Sweetheart
by Belle A Lestrange
Summary: Halloween Fic. Muggle AU. Love is a very dark thing to want. Being in love is even darker still. However, having someone love every part of you -every inch, every fibre, every molecule so unrelentingly -is the darkest of all deficiencies. Draco didn't expect to fall in love with Harry the way he did. But just how far will he go to keep him just the way he is? Warnings inside.


**A/N: Halloween / muggle AU. Older-Draco and fifteen-year-old Harry.**

 **WARNINGS: Sensitive imagery, implied sexual activities, kidnapping, imprisonment and violence.**

* * *

 **Sweetheart**

 **by**

 **Belle A Lestrange**

Love is a very dark thing to want.

Being in love is, legitimately, even darker still.

However, having someone love every part of you -every inch, every fiber, every molecule so unrelentingly -is the darkest of all psychological deficiencies.

To fall in love with someone, you first need to learn and protect everything that makes them a person. That requires embracing all their flaws and mistakes as if they were your own. As far as he knew he had accepted every flaw and irksome habit of one Harry Potter before he'd uttered even two words to the teen. It hadn't been easy, not by a long shot, but after many weeks of grimacing and clenching his fists in agitation, he'd come to expect certain things and had, eventually, gotten his head around accepting them. For instance, he now found it endearing when Harry would cross the street before the green man appeared, deftly dodging fast cars and the abuse from angry drivers, all the while listening to the music from his phone. He also had somehow managed to find it rather 'sweet' when Harry deflected his guardian's hugs the few times they'd gone out shopping together.

Or when he'd persuade her to 'lend' him money and then never bother paying it back.

All of these things were indeed flaws of most fifteen-year-old boys, and yet somehow Harry was the one who stood out from a crowd. How could he not? He had beautiful green eyes and a shock of dark brown -practically black -hair that looked sexy when it was all wind-swept. He hadn't found out yet just what colour his hair was, sadly for him he hadn't managed to get close enough to determine the details, but there was time for that. He had time. These things couldn't be rushed after all.

Every detail needed to be perfect.

 **~OCTOBER~**

His days started off as any other; he woke up in his one bedroom flat and took his time to work the kinks out of his muscles before shuffling out of his room and making his way into the bathroom. He would shower before he brushed his hair with a stiff comb, shaved the fair bristles from his jawline and brushed his teeth until they gleamed like china. Then he would return to his bedroom and take his time in selecting his clothes for the day. Appearing normal to the outside world was a unique art that so few people possessed. Thankfully, he was indeed one of those few people, and he had perfected the art many years ago. Dressing himself in plain t-shirts, jeans, converses and a nondescript hoodie would ensure that he remained a faceless shadow in the crowded streets of London. It was true that he would prefer to wear the tailored clothes and shined shoes, however for the sake of his latest enterprise, sacrifices needed to be made.

For the time being, his current job working in the Costa's cafe local to Harry's secondary school was the perfect job to keep him undetected by the world. It was a fair trek from his own little flat, but he bit his tongue and had made the journey most days of the week until he'd gotten used to the new routine. Now it was like the long walk up to the Golden Gates. He liked the work fair enough, and the job in itself was so easy he could do it in his sleep, but that didn't bother him like it would most people. It was true that he could do just about any job he set his mind to, and could be doing a lot more with his life, however he was determined to focus on one goal at a time.

Harry was the top of this list.

The morning, as soon as he entered for his shift he almost stumbled into a group of late-comers who had come out of school long after the usual rowdy mod. He furrowed his brow as he passed them to get around the counter and into the back room to change into his uniform. Most likely a bunch of teens who'd gotten stuck behind in detention. He truly hated those sorts of people; they were usually the loudest and rudest of the school kids. He would definitely be in a bad mood for the rest of the evening. It wasn't going to be a good night. He could already feel a heavy weight settling in his stomach that would only be cured by a good, stiff brandy, a hot shower and his bed.

Placing his personal items into the small lockers in the back room, he quickly pulled on a Costa polo over his head, tied an apron on over the top and then turned to walk back out to take over from Geraldine behind the counter. He cleared his throat so save for having to tap her on the shoulder. She didn't turn to him as she was finishing with her last customer. "It's all yours," she smiled up at him before she turned away with a flick of her auburn hair curls before flouncing off into the back room.

Draco watched her go with a frown of displeasure before turning to the cash register, entering in his log-in details before turning to face the next customer. "Next please," he called out, his eyes constantly drawn to the group of teens loitering in the way of the door, making it difficult for customers to come and go with ease.

He served an elderly man who gave him a charming smile that helped to ease his mood and even gave him a nice little tip with what little change he had left. Draco felt a little bad about it but then the old man seemed more than happy to part with the copper and silver coins. Once he'd toddled off to sit in one of the large, red armchairs Draco turned his attention to the rest of the people in the queue.

"Next!" he called.

One-by-one he served the customers their drinks, some of them engaged him in cheerful conversation, some of them were merely rude people who were talking rather loudly on their phones. He was partially glad that those people didn't hang around and sit down. Finally, he got the rowdy kids. Why young kids like them needed to drink coffee he didn't know, but he was far from offering them advice. If they wanted to get fat from all the sugary snacks they needed to wash down, then so be it. As long as he got paid he didn't care what they did.

"Yes?" he asked, quirking a haughty eyebrow at the sixteen-year-old's in front of him.

"Can we have three gingerbread frappe's with whipped cream, four tea-cakes and one tooty-fruity smoothie?"

"Excuse me?" he said, furrowing his brows as he made no move to start preparing the order or even ringing up the total for them to pay.

The teenager gave him a dirty look, smacking the gum between her teeth. "You heard what I said," she sneered.

"I did," he inclined his head, "However I didn't hear you say 'please'."

"Who d'you think you are? My teacher? Just get my damn drink!" she snapped, the wad of gum almost falling out of her slippery, glossed lips.

Draco was very close to telling her where she could go to get her drinks, but promptly clamped it shut. He gave her a slow smile, one he'd perfected, and took her money. Once he'd given her her change, he turned around to make her drink orders. With his back turned, whilst the milk was steaming, he let a long glob of saliva drip down into the base of each cup before finishing her order and moving the large tray of tall drinks to the end of the counter. She gave him a taunting looking as she swiped the tray up and hurried along to the seats her group of friends had migrated off to.

With a glare over at them, he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the next person in line. His words died in his throat as the black-haired teen plucked one of his earphones out of his ears. His palms suddenly grew clammy as he tried to find the right words. "Uh ... Yes, what um ... What would you like?"

Harry peered up at him from behind his glasses. He expression was open and tired, as though he'd had a long day at school. Had he gotten into trouble? Was having detention the reason why he was only just coming into the coffee shop after school had ended? Draco hoped not, he didn't know what he would do if Harry's ambitions started slipping. He caught himself before he started giving the younger boy a concerned look. It wouldn't do to show concern just yet. Plenty of time for that.

Harry licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. God, how Draco wanted to reach out and touch that black mess. He didn't want to tame it, oh no, the messiness was a part of Harry he had grown to cherish. No, he wanted to be the one combing his fingers through the hair. He really wanted to know what the hair felt like; was it soft or was it rough and hard to control? A small part of Draco reckoned he could deal with either alternative.

"Um ... Could I just get a coffee please?" he asked quietly, his eyes quickly fluttering back down to the counter-top between them.

Draco made up the total of the coffee. "Are you sure you wouldn't like anything else with that coffee?" he asked smoothly, trying to entice the young boy into staying just a few moments longer.

Harry shrugged, "No, just the coffee is fine, thanks." He cast a quick look over at the group of teens that had preceded him. He pulled a face and sighed, "Sorry about them. They're always like that unfortunately."

Draco shrugged as though it hadn't bothered him. The truth was, Harry's voice was like honey pouring through his mind, smoothing out the wrinkles made by worry and irksome experiences. He gave the young boy an easy smiled and turned to grab the coffee. "Alright, there's your coffee. Have a nice evening."

Harry gave a quick twitch of a smile before accepting his to-go cup. "Thanks," he gave a little salute as he turned his back on the counter and then headed for the door.

Draco wanted nothing more than to keep the young boy there with him, talking idly over the counter. However, it wouldn't do him any good to suddenly become desperate. He needed to take things slowly and build up a repertoire. Reluctantly, he pursed his lips and watched that dark mess of hair disappear behind the door and then out of sight. He watched longingly after him, long after he could no longer see the young boy. It was no use. He truly did feel smitten. It also didn't help that he wasn't working again until Thursday morning. He tried not to frown for the rest of his shift, but it became increasingly difficult as time wore on and the last of the frustrating customers dwindled back out into the street.

It was almost a relief when he finally got to close-up for the evening and pulled the key out of the lock. Everything was secure and the lights were off. Now he could return home and relax without any worries. Smiling wanly, he turned and pulled his hood up against the evening wind, and began to make his way home.

That night as he took his shower, he stood under the hot spray and let the water rinse away the smell of coffee that clung to his skin. He sleeked his hair back out of his eyes and relished the faint burn of the hot water on his eyelids. As he washed the soap away he let his fingers wonder down to his semi and touched the swelling flesh.

He abruptly tore his hand away.

No, he wasn't allowed to touch himself. Not yet. Touching was a reward, one that he hadn't earned just yet. Grinding his teeth together he tried to will it back down but the sudden imagery of Harry, small, hot and naked pressed against the shower walls. Draco groaned out loud, desperately wanting Harry wet and slippery against his body, holding him tightly and protecting him, letting his hands wonder over every dip and crevice, mapping him out and gently marking his territory.

The first thing he would do with Harry, he decided, was that he would cleanse his body and soul, re-purify him as the treasure that he was. Locking his purity and innocence within him, and washing away those endearing little habits, like messing his hair up. Oh, that hair! How wonderful it would be to wash! To watch it slowly dry in the warm air, gently curling into a little mass of raven locks.

With a groan he stood in the shower until he had completely wilted back to his previous flaccid state, before climbing out and wrapped himself in a towel. He dabbed himself dry, and then ruffled his hair into a mass of gold strands, before drying it with the small hairdryer he kept in the little medicine cabinet. Once it was dried, he changed into a pair of plain flannel pyjamas and turned off all the lights as he went through his small flat towards the kitchen. He made himself a cup of tea and settled down into his armchair where he read for an hour.

The book was decent enough, it held his attention for the most part, but as soon as his little clock on the sideboard chimed eleven o'clock he closed the book, propped it on the arm of his chair, drained the last of his tea and took it to the kitchen. Making sure that everything was in order he turned off all lights on his way across to his bedroom.

Once the door was closed he surveyed his room; plain slate grey walls, dark headboard and blue covers with white pillows. The floors were hardwood and varnished darkly. There was a deep blue rug in the middle that was soft underfoot. He loved to curl his toes into it. There was a wardrobe and a dresser. It was modestly decorated, almost cruelly so, but it was home. His home. One day he would proudly show it off to his significant other, whenever that day should be, however for now he cherished what little privacy he had from the outside world.

Slipping in between the cool covers, he turned off the bedside lamp and drowned the room in the silent darkness, a silence that hummed through every molecule within him. Soon, he was floating out of his body and into sleep.

~0~

The rain came down heavily the following week. Draco had gone eight whole days without seeing Harry in any of his shifts. He couldn't deny that he was a little crestfallen by the turn of events. He worked well with the few people he did actually talk to at Costa, however other than that his days were fairly quite. If he hadn't been serving any customers, he most likely wouldn't have spoken at all during those eight days. He most certainly wasn't in the habit of talking to himself at home, either. Not for the most part anyway.

On the ninth day he did manage to have a small ray of hope despite the thunderstorm lashing down outside.

He had gotten the closing shift and was serving on his own. There were no customers left and he took his time in cleaning everything with precision, making sure that everything was ready for the opening shift the following day. The next day was his day off and he had to admit he was a little disheartened that he hadn't seen anyone or anything interesting in nine whole days.

That's when the bell over the door jingled.

A gust of cold wind sent chills running through him, as he turned towards the counter. His throat tightened as he recognized the mop of dark hair that sprung out from under the hood as the teen used a small cloth to dry his glasses. He let out a couple of shuddering breaths before the squeak of his water-logged trainers approached the counter.

Draco felt his cheeks flush with warmth. "That looks like nasty weather out there," he commented as he readied himself to prepare Harry's usual order.

"Yeah," Harry grimaced as he peeled his sodden jacket off and slung it over his arm. "You're lucky you're in here where it's warm."

"Would you like the usual?"

"My usual?" Harry asked with a heavy frown, his dark eyebrows knitting together.

Draco felt his body flush cold at the slip of his tongue, before he gave an easy smile. "Of course, you're in here enough and have the simplest order. None of that extra sweeteners nonsense."

Harry flushed, although he could've just been cold. "Uh ... Thanks. Do you mind if I ...?" he gestured over to the empty chairs.

Draco felt his fingers tighten. On the one hand he'd just cleaned and polished all of the tables as well as cleaned the floors. He licked his lips and frowned before he over-came his compulsive behaviour. "Yep that's no problem."

"I'll try not to drip on your floor," Harry smiled over his shoulder as he walked over to the nearest table.

Draco gave a tight smile after the boy, the droplets of rain water pattering onto the lacquered floors. His fingers itched to reach for the mop but he stopped himself and focused on the coffee. He paid extra attention to make it rich and hot, the perfect thing to ward off the cold. After a moments hesitation he propped a small pack of biscuits onto the small tray as well. His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he paid his way over to Harry's table. The boy had draped his wet jacket over the radiator for it to warm up, whilst he'd littered the table with his laptop a, textbook and a notebook.

Studying in a coffee shop at this hour? Really? Why didn't he do that at home? Shaking his head, Draco cleared his throat and plastered a bright smile on his face as he bent down to place the cup and plate on the table. "There you are, this should warm you up. If you need anything else, just give me a call."

Harry nodded and then frowned. "Oh no wait! Sorry, I didn't order these," he said, holding the biscuits up for Draco to take them back.

Draco shook his head and smiled, "No, those are on me. You look like you need more than a coffee." He gave another fleeting smile before turning back to finish up behind the counter. It was technically already done, but he needed to distract himself. He couldn't be caught staring at Harry until he closed up for the night.

That would be improper.

The cafe was silent for a little while as Draco went about reorganizing the cups by size and material. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up on end and he couldn't help but glance every so often over at the dark-haired teen. So close and yet so far. He focused his attention on throwing out the old filters and cleaning the cappuccino machine. This way he could leave as soon as it was 'closing time'.

"Excuse me?" the honey-sweet voice cracked through the silence that had fallen through the cafe. Draco turned around to face Harry over the counter, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Do you have the password for the WiFi?"

Draco licked his lips and frowned, "Er ... Well we don't normally give it to customers after 4pm."

"Oh ... Right," Harry's eyes turned downcast.

Shit! Draco thought. He didn't need Harry thinking he was a tyrant over a simple WiFi password. "Actually!" Draco called out as the brunette teen wandered away. He grabbed napkin and a sharpie, using thick black letters to counter-act the spread of ink. "Here, take this. It should work for you." He passed the napkin over.

Harry looked at the napkin and frowned, "What is it?"

"It's the staff password. It bypasses some of the filters that we have up," he bit his lip. He technically wasn't allowed to do it but ... well ... the miserable look on Harry's face had made his chest grow tight.

"Are you sure you're allowed?" the teen asked, nervously.

Draco shrugged, "Not really, but you're the only one here. I trust you won't tell anyone else." He gave his most charming smile and winked for extra measure.

Harry's cheeks burned a light pink colour. as he slid the napkin off the counter. Perfect, just what he'd been hoping for. Perhaps the way to go was small favours that he wouldn't ordinarily do for anyone else. That was interesting. Flattery was a step too soon, but clearly his ultimate goal wasn't as far off as he thought.

Until seven o'clock they both remained in the cafe, like two bubbles floating in a breeze; aware of one another's existence and even acknowledging it, but never interacting. Unfortunately, as soon as the clock chimed seven Draco had to go over to Harry and tell him that he needed to close the shop up now. Harry didn't look disappointed. He simply nodded and started packing his things away as Draco started turning off the machines behind the counter.

The rain had subsided a little as Harry finally swung his messenger bag on over his coat. He waved as Draco came out of the back room, tucking his scarf in under the collar of his own coat. "See you later. And thanks for the password and biscuits."

"Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Draco asked, gesturing outside to the cold wind bending the trees and the frosty promise of rain.

Harry shrugged, "My bus should be coming soon."

"Alright well would you like some company? I'm heading down that way anyways." Harry shifted awkwardly by the door as Draco reached for his keys and held the door open for the small teen. Harry looked up at him before dropping his chin and walking out into the cold air. Draco followed, spinning expertly on his heel to close and lock the door behind them before slipping the keys into his pocket. "Good to go?" he asked, burying his hands in his coat pockets, the temptation to reach out and take Harry's hand in his own to warm it up.

The young brunette didn't do anything except nod stiffly and wait for Draco to lead the familiar route along the street towards the illuminated bus-stop.

They didn't talk for a while as they made their way to the stop and stood off to one side. Draco waited for a little while before he finally decided to breech the silent before it got awkward. "Does your mother know that you're here?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "We had a bit of a fight and I told her I was going to study with some friends."

"But you weren't with friends," Draco observed.

"No ... I wasn't," he dropped his head so that his dark fringe fell in front of his eyes. "Sorry ... My bus is here!"

Draco opened his mouth and then clamped it shut. Did Harry seem a little bit relieved to get out of his company? There was the possibility that he had come on to strong, but he didn't think that was the reason. He frowned a little as he watched the brunette boy climb onto the bus with a few other late-night stragglers. He didn't feel right letter the teen go home alone, especially when it was so dark however there was no way he could climb on the bus with him without freaking him out.

He flexed his fingers in his pocket and tried his best to keep his composure as he watched the bus drive out of sight around the corner. Well that was it. There wasn't anything else he could do for the time being. He needed to go back to his home and relax.

At least, that was the logical course of action.

Logic wouldn't have found him an hour and a half later standing on the darkened corner of the road Harry lived on, shielded from sight by nothing more than the weathered canopy of an oak tree. The rain had started up again, icy needles spiking down from the sky and drenching his clothes. His skin was already numb with the cold. He knew that if he didn't go home soon he would get pneumonia and there was no real way he could explain that away at work. Glancing down at his watch, he decided that he would wait another half an hour and then call it a night. Brushing his fringe out of his eyes he peered up through the branches and frowned up at the window he'd been watching for the last forty odd minutes.

There were no lights on downstairs that could only mean that everyone had gone up for bed. So why had no lights been turned on, no matter how temporarily, in the bedroom?

Blowing into his hands to get some circulation back to his fingers, Draco felt his stomach flip dramatically as the window he was watching finally burst to life like a fire in the middle of a black forest. His breath caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of Harry's shadow briefly walking across the small gap between the curtains. He felt his muscles ache with want as the young teen tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt getting caught under his chin, making his messy hair even messier. God, how he wanted to run his fingers through that black mass! He felt his heart twist painfully in his chest as he watched the shadow figure crouch down. Had he just taken off his trousers? The excitement of not knowing was getting Draco just that little bit more aroused.

His breath puffed out in small white bursts of vapor as the cold finally seeped into his lungs. His body was starting to convulse with the on-set of hypothermia. He needed to go home as soon as physically possible. The rain drenched through his cheap trainers and his knees started to knock together. Just as he was about to turn away, he saw Harry come into view at long last. The teen was shirtless, the waistband of his boxers invisible to Draco just on the other side of the windowpane. He reached up to draw the blinds down and in that second, Draco almost collapsed back against the oak tree; he caught a perfect view of that smooth, hairless chest, the small dark nipples and the faint brush of a snail trail trickling down from the boys' belly-button and into those boxers.

Oh, what Draco wouldn't give to have that small body cradled against his own. To have his lithe, strong arms holding Harry as though he were made of glass. To kiss his forehead and gently take those small round glasses off of his nose and trace his fingertips along that finely squared jaw.

As soon as the blind was fixed down into place, Draco had to admit defeat for the evening and turn sharply on his heel before hurrying along the road to the main bus stop. If he was quick he would just make the last bus.

It wasn't until two weeks later that Draco saw Harry again.

Oddly enough he wasn't working on this occasion. He had been sitting in a Waterstone's store, thumbing through a copy of ' _DORIAN GRAY_ ' with a heavy frown on his face when he felt something prod at the small of his back. Not used to being touched, let alone in public, he whipped around with the book clasped to his chest. His heart hammed in his ears as he refocused his gaze on the teen peering up at him, an identically stunned expression on his innocent young face.

"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled sheepishly. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just ... Thought I'd say 'hi'."

Draco blinked and tried to wipe the shocked expression off his face. "I ... er ... Sorry, I guess you made me jump. Off in my own little world." He gestured lamely with his book. The back of his neck was heating up. This wasn't good. He wasn't prepared for unscheduled meetings in public. His throat felt tight as he swallowed past the nauseated feeling swirling inside him.

Harry didn't look convinced. His expression was contorted into one of child-like confusion. They stood in an awkward silence for a little. Draco was aware that his back was still pressing back into the bookcase shelves. He edged away and cleared his throat before scanning the people milling around them. He didn't want people to stare for no reason. Despite how innocent it was, Draco looked so much older than Harry. He hadn't yet had a growth spurt and his voice was barely on the cusp of breaking. It still sounded delightfully high. Draco, on the other hand, had had both growth spurts and even though he was freshly shaven that morning he still appeared older than his actual age.

It really wouldn't do either of them any good if security was called.

"Are you ... here alone?" Draco asked, still holding the book to his chest as though it was a shield.

"Not really," Harry shrugged, "I was here with a few mates. We're going to the cinema but I wanted to come in here for a second."

Draco nodded. He could understand wanting to run away and get lost in books. It was one of the reasons he had three floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in his flat. "Are they not waiting for you?" he asked.

Harry hummed casting a quick glance over his shoulder. "Yeah probably," he shrugged again and kept his gaze drifting between the bookcase and Draco's face. He sighed heavily when an alert came through on his phone.

Watching him as he read the text, Draco saw his small shoulders droop a little. "Something wrong?" he asked.

The brunette teen nodded glumly, "My friends are spamming me to hurry up."

Draco cocked an eyebrow at the teens demeanor before realization dawned on him. "You don't want to go to see this particular movie, do you?" he observed.

"It wasn't my first choice of movie, no," he grumbled as he tapped out a reply, "It wasn't even my fifth choice."

"So why did you agree to go?"

"I just ... Wanted to get out of the house. It is a Saturday after all." He finished tapping before pocketing his phone and looking up at Draco. "It was nice seeing you again ... er ... What is your name by the way? I just realised I never asked."

Draco let a fleeting smile tickle his lips, before tilting his head to the side. His body relaxed a little. "Draco," he smiled a little wider, "My name is Draco."

Harry inclined his head, "It's nice to meet you. Properly, that is." His bright green eyes gleamed in the light, "What book are you looking at?"

"Oh er ... " he glanced down at the book almost bending in his tight grasp, "'Dorian Gray' ... Have you ever read it?" He realised how silly that sounded as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Harry smiled, "No. Is it any good?" he asked reaching out and tilting the cover a little so he could quickly skim read the back of the book. His phone buzzed again and he sighed heavily. "Shit! I got to go. See you around," he gave a timid wave and then hurried out of the store.

As soon as he had disappeared out of the entrance, Draco was able to breathe normally. He had been pressed so far up against the bookcase that he was sure the spines of the books were now imprinted into his back. His muscles were tight and throbbed with a dull ache that made him uncomfortable. ' _Was this a good thing?'_ he pondered as he idly drifted through the aisles. Harry had willingly approached him outside of the safety of the coffee-shop. Did that mean he was growing accustomed to Draco's presence after so few visits? Or there was always the possibility he was just a reckless teen who liked to be overly grateful to his superiors.

A thin smile spread on Draco's pale lips.

That thought wasn't necessarily a bad thing, per say. It simply meant that the young boy had respect for his elders. No harm, no foul, as they say. Draco walked over the the counter and quickly paid for his book. It wasn't so much that he needed another copy of his favourite book, but more of the fact that Harry had personally touched the book itself. He was now in possession of something that Harry had touched. Realistically, if he'd only wanted that he could have stolen all the cups Harry had drank from like a sociopath, however he had some dignity.

Harry had willingly touched the book in Draco's hands; that was the difference.

As he walked out of the shopping centre, Draco couldn't keep the smile from growing on his face. He could treasure the book for the rest of his life ... Well ... at least until he was able to get a little closer to Harry, to treasure him as much as he planned to treasure this book.

As he made his way to the coffee-shop to start his shift, the book safely tucked away in his locked, he breezed through serving customer after customer with an almost dreamy look in his eyes. His colleagues were curious and whispered a little behind his back before actually teasing him with sly comments as the day wore on. Despite Harry not being there, he was able to take comfort in the knowledge that he knew what Harry was going that evening. Even if he didn't want to watch the movie, he was there in the cinema. He was probably slouched in his chair and picking at his nails or running his fingers through his hair in anticipation for the movie to end.

He huffed a small smile.

Within a couple of hours Harry would be on a bus home, the thoughts of homework and school the following Monday crowding in his young mind. The weight of the day would make him struggle through dinner with his guardians and then he'd drag himself to the sanctuary of his room. Meanwhile, Draco would be in his own room around that time, knowing that -like him -Harry was restless without knowing the cause.

It was an enticing thought. Sadly, it would have to wait.

That night he'd curled up on his side in his bed and closed his eyes. He slowly ran his fingertips up the length of his thigh, over his hips and trailing down to his navel. His breath hitched as he felt his fingers brushed along the dark blonde hair that snaked down under the waistband of his pyjamas. Just at the point of no return, when his fingertips brushed under the hem of his trousers, he'd take his hand away, but only after his cock twitched with want.

It was an ugly way to torture himself but it also felt so good. He couldn't resist imaging someone else's fingers gently skimming along the fine hairs of his thighs.

With a heavy ache in his heart, he finally curled his fingers into a fist, punched his pillow into submission and closed his eyes to sleep.

 **~JANUARY~**

Christmas had been a quiet affair; he'd taken time off work and gone off up to Wiltshire to spend the holidays with his parents. It had been a difficult decision but, logically, he knew he couldn't simply say to his mother that he had more pressing matters to do over Christmas, namely watching Harry enjoy the festivities through the net curtains and fairy lights.

No, that wouldn't do at all. He knew he had to sacrifice things, but he didn't think he would need to sacrifice Harry himself, even if it was for just two weeks.

However, now that he was back behind the counter and struggling through the sleet-slued streets of London, he was beginning to regret not quitting and simply running off back to his family home to have long, lazy evenings by the fireplace.

With a grimace, bundled up in a thick wool coat, scarf and hat he made his way through the frozen streets towards the shopping centre. He wasn't working that day however he was in the mood to walk around and look into some shops. He didn't want to be stuck the entire time just sitting on his arse and reading book after book until his mind grew numb.

Somehow that's how he managed to to find himself relaxing in a small cafe with a couple of books in a bag by his feet and a newspaper folded up on the table in front of him as well as a cup of piping-hot coffee and a small plate of biscuits. He was enjoying reading the overly dramatics in the recent news. It really was silly; either the news was about Armageddon or a bunch of silly low-rent people who had nothing else to do all day except make a lot of shit up for their five seconds of fame.

If that's what you called it, anyway.

As it sipped at the hot frothiness and idly turned the page, a figure cast a vague shadow over him. With a bored sigh he looked up from his article, coffee aloft in his hand, and felt his heart freeze mid-beat. Harry smiled shyly down at him, the light haloing him like a saintly figure coming to rid the blonde of his own boredom. "Hi," he said as he leaned on the back of the chair across from Draco.

Draco felt his hand tremble for a brief moment before he set his cup down. "Hi, what're you doing here?" he asked as calmly as possible, the blood roaring through his temples.

"I only had a half day at school and needed to go shopping to find something for my cousin's birthday. Saw you in here and ... yeah," he trailed off, his eyes downcast towards the table, clearly a little embarrassed by his own brashness.

Draco gave the teenager a once over before cocking a sleek eyebrow at him, "I'm assuming you didn't find anything remotely present-worthy, then?"

Harry pulled a face and shook his head, "I have no idea. I hate present shopping at the best of times."

Draco huffed a laugh before forcing the chair the teen was leaning on out a little bit. Harry flinched and glanced down before back up at Draco. "Sit," the blonde stated as he leaned up a little in his chair. "Do you want anything? Coffee, tea, something to eat?"

Harry flushed a little and shook his head, "Um ... no you don't have to."

Draco waved it away, feeling a lot more relaxed as he reached for his wallet. "Nonsense, I don't mind. It's just a snack right?" he gave a wink before getting out of his warm, comfortable chair and heading for the counter. He felt his body flush a little; had he pushed the boat out too far too soon with that wink? Sometimes it was innocent however sometimes people got the wrong idea about the tiniest things. He ordered a small coffee and a couple of tea-cakes. Once he'd paid he carried the tray over to the table where Harry had cosied up in the spare chair.

"Thank you," he offered quietly as he took one of the tea-cakes and the small coffee for himself. "So you're not working today, then?" he asked, peering up at the blonde through his glasses.

Draco shook his head, "No I decided to come out for the day."

"Yeah I didn't see you all through Christmas. Did you do anything nice?" My God, he was polite wasn't he? Draco had to suppress a smile as it was another mental point in Harry's favour.

"I went to stay with my parents for a couple of weeks, relaxed, saw my aunts and uncles and stuffed my face most of the time. How about you? Did you do anything nice for the holidays?"

"Not really, just a small get together at my aunt's house," he took a large bite of his tea-cake and moaned, his bright green eyes rolling back in his head. "Oh wow I haven't had these in ages!" he flushed a little, cupping a hand over his mouth and murmuring, "Sorry."

Draco smiled easily, "Don't be sorry." He watched the teenager for a couple of moments before relaxing even more in his chair, "What are up to at school these days?"

Harry winkled his nose, "I don't really want to talk about it?"

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "Oh? Trouble with the teachers or your school-friends?"

"They're getting into trouble a lot and somehow I'm getting the blame for it," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Plus my aunt thinks that I need a maths tutor."

"Are you struggling with maths?" Draco asked lightly, taking another sip of his cooling coffee.

Harry shrugged a shoulder, looking suddenly very small in the large, red armchair he was tucked up in. "A little bit, I'm still doing good but my grades have slipped a little and they said if I don't get at least 85% on the next test, they're going to send a letter home to my aunt."

Draco felt his stomach knot as he leaned a little further of the table, "If you wanted to, I could help you study? I may be a little rusty but if you need the help I'm more than happy to."

"Why would you want to help me?" the teen asked, suddenly wary of the blonde man across from him. He seemed to be nothing but sincere in his bequest but he couldn't ignore the warm feeling at the back of his neck. Perhaps it was the embarrassment he felt as readily admitting his silly little problem to someone who clearly wasn't struggling with life.

Draco shrugged, trying to keep his face neutral. He flared his hands a little, "I don't know, you're a nice kid. Would hate for you to suddenly suffer for no reason, when you have some free help right in front of you."

"Free?" those bright green eyes narrowed, "So you wouldn't want anything in return?"

The older man huffed a small laugh and shook his head a little, "Honestly, no. Just prove that you can learn and ace that test."

"And that's enough for you?"

Draco shrugged, feeling a little helpless as a silly smile came onto his face, "Well if you really want to make it up to me, we can figure it out later. You can buy me a coffee for a change." He gave another cheeky little wink and was delighted as the faint blush tinted Harry's cheeks. It was a rather adorable sight.

"Okay ... That sounds fair," Harry finally smiled gently across the table. That expression ... Oh, how sweet it made his lightly tanned features! It made Draco's heart sing just a little bit louder in his ears. Even after they spoke for two more hours and Harry had to finally make his excuses to leave it didn't dampen his spirits at all as he watched the dark mop of hair disappear onto a bus. He waited, standing tall and bright in the rough, January wind that ripped through the streets. As the bus disappeared out of sight, he felt some pressure lift off of his body.

Perhaps it was going to be a good year after all.

For the next two weeks Harry stopped by the Costa cafe after school to study for his maths test. Half the time Draco wasn't working for the first week, but he had managed to swap for all the early shifts, which meant that by the time his shift finished, Harry was just walking in from the street and had a determined look on his cute wind-pinked cheeks. Despite being almost certain of that fact that he was investing most of his current month's pay-cheque going straight back into the company's pocket, he couldn't fault how delighted he felt when he saw those bright green eyes and that sweet little smile on those pretty pink lips.

What was even more delightful was how willing Harry's mind truly was; when explained in a varying degree of different ways, he understood it more readily and even remembered it when Draco did the textbook test questions a few days later. His mind was like a soft, highly absorbent sponge. Draco was more than happy to help the teen work things out a little more. He had always loved algebra, however fractions was his one weakness. Thankfully, Harry didn't have a problem with that specific problem.

It was the morning before the test as Draco had just opened up the cafe when the door jingled open and Harry came through with a rush of cold air that hit Draco's still sleep-fogged senses like a ton of ice. He was very tempted to turf the teenager out, but as soon as he saw that worried look on his face, his chest ached. Dropping the towel onto the counter he walked around and frowned as he came over and firmly closed the door. Customer's weren't allowed in yet, so it wouldn't do to leave the door unlocked. "Are you alright? You're going to be late for school if you don't hurry up the hill," he warned softly as he glanced at the large chrome clock mounted on the wall.

"I know," Harry gushed, his body rigid as he edged a little closer into the warmth. "I just ... needed to thank you. Whether I get the perfect marks or not, you helped me so much. I'm really grateful." With that said, he quickly crossed the room and wrapped his arms around the blonde in a tight hug.

Draco felt uncomfortable. They hadn't touched at all during the last two weeks. Now it was like he'd been plunged into the deep end with an anchor tied to his ankles. He didn't know what to do with his arms. They were suspended in the air as Harry tucked his head against the blonde man's chest. Slowly, as though hesitating for a brief moment, Draco let his arms wrap around the teenager's relaxed shoulders. "I ... Y-You're welcome," he managed to gush out, his chest tight and airless. "But you still need to go and take the test," he finally said, reality snapping him back to the moment.

Harry gave another squeeze before pulling back and stepping away, "Yeah you're probably right." He raked a hand through his hair and gave a shaky laugh, "I should probably head off. When are you working until?"

Draco momentarily blanked, before he was able to find his voice. "Um ... I finish at five tonight."

"Would you mind terribly if I came to say another thank you?" he asked somewhat timidly.

"No," Draco found himself saying with a slight shake of his head, "I'd like that very much. Now go, before you're written up for being late!"

Harry smiled and hurried from the door, waving through the glass window as he hurried on up the hill, the wind making a beehive out of his hair. Draco was left leaning back against the cold counter-top, his legs feeling stiff where he'd been so frozen by the unanticipated hug. His skin pebbled a little as he tried to motivate himself to move and prep the cafe for when the customers came but he was rooted to the spot. His skin felt raw and itchy from where Harry's body had touched him. Despite the cloth separating both of them, he felt as though some of his body was on fire, as though the teen had imprinted into his skin.

Running a hand down the length of his torso, his breath hitched as a shiver ran through. There was no time to dwell on it. The sky was growing lighter outside and the time was getting on. He had less that twenty minutes to prep and open the cafe for the early bird customers.

Turning his back to the doors he hastily tugged an apron on over his head and set to work; he cleaned the counters and the cappuccino machine before taking the chairs down from where they'd been upturned on the tables. Wiping down the tables he couldn't help but look up at the clock to see when the cafe would open, then he could count down the hours until he would see Harry again.

He stopped and straightened. Did he really sound that pathetic? He pulled a look of disgust. "Draco you really need to get more of a life while you wait around for that kid," he groaned to himself.

"Did you say something, Draco?" He whipped around to see Sarah, one of his colleagues, hanging up her scarf and coat on the wrack beside the door.

He shook his head, "Or er ... Nothing. Just talking to myself."

She rolled her eyes with a laugh, "Ah well, at least it's lovely and warm in here! Do you want a tea?" she asked, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she went around the counter and started turning the machines on. A low steady hum gradually filled the air.

"Please, I could really do with some warming up," he called out as he wiped the last of the tables. She grinned over at him before setting to work, making a quick brew and sliding a mug over the counter to him. He took it with a grateful smile and felt a little bit more human as the warm liquid rushed through his body. The alien imprint of Harry was gradually receding to the back of his mind.

For the rest of the next six hours Draco was more than content to indulge his fellow co-workers in their idle chatter, and even participate in a few well-versed jokes. They served some regulars and a lot of new one-time-show customers, but for the most part the day was uneventful. It was a Monday after-all, it was rarely ever going to be that busy, especially when the weather outside seemed unable to make up its mind for what it wanted to do. Draco wasn't too bothered by it, he just feared for the mob of sopping wet school-kids they would get at around half three in the afternoon.

At exactly half three to four he dealt with said mob of kids and was relieved when most of them left, dribbling cookie crumbs and coffee down their front. How unsanitary. He promptly glared as they left and walked out into the frigid air. Draco wouldn't be caught dead in that if he could help it.

He started to get restless. Every few minutes his eyes would drag themselves to the clock and his heart would slide lower in his chest at the realization that only fifty-seven seconds had gone by each time. It was driving him crazy.

Sarah's shift ended which meant that Draco had to manage for an hour alone before Zack and Emily came in to relieve him for the night.

As the time wore on Draco couldn't help but look at the clock. His stomach was twisting into knots. Ever time someone came through the door his heart would leap up and then crash down. Nothing; where was he?

All too soon, five o'clock came and went with still no sign of Harry.

Draco clocked out and bundled up in his coat, scarf and hat. As he ducked out into the dying light and the frosty air, he rubbed his hands together and stood for a moment, contemplating. Instead of heading for his bus stop, he walked up the same side of the road for a few blocks until he was strolling by the dimly lit school building. Harry's school. His heart raced when he noticed the single police car stationed outside. He appeared to be just in time to see the policemen nodding solemnly to a couple who looked familiar to Draco, before getting into their car and making a U-turn before driving off down the road. Just before he had completely surpassed the school he realised why he knew why the couple had looked familiar; the walrus of a man and the horse-faced woman with a long, thin neck?

They were Harry's guardians.

That, coupled with the police car would only mean one thing; Harry was gone.

 **~FEBRUARY~**

A month later and the paper's still plastered Harry's face at least once or twice in each edition, even if it was a foot-note sort of article. Whenever he watched TV, Draco would see that lightly tanned face, those bright green eyes. Although the post popular photo they used wasn't the best one; a school portrait of Harry with his hair forcefully patted down, his glasses too big for his face and his newly grown incisors not completely fitting his mouth.

It was an adorable little photo, one that Draco had to admit he wanted for himself, however he was still struggling with going to work every day and getting used to the menial routines without the hope of glimpsing Harry's cheeky smile. It was frustrating. He kept rationalizing that no one would come and talk to him, but he had to admit that there was an air of suspicion clinging to him. For the last couple of weeks Harry and he had been meeting up in front of all his co-workers to study. He was sure that they would talk if the police even bothered coming to question any of them.

It was difficult to quell the waves of nausea and trepidation that rushed through him whenever the bell above the door jingled through the cafe.

He switched to doing the early shifts so as to keep himself away from people. He didn't feel the desire to talk to them as much as he used to. Even then it hadn't been especially long conversations should they ever crop up, however now he almost never spoke unless he was on the phone talking to his mother.

From an outsiders perspective, it would look as though he was suffering from either withdrawal or depression. The fact that would have perplexed them was that he was in perfect health and of sound mind.

He was not suffering at all.

In fact, Draco was quite content.

Throughout February he took his time with making his life a little better. Between his shifts at Costa, he would take his car for a drive. He hated driving in the city, but he couldn't deny the sudden rush of control and power he felt sitting in the supple leather seat, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel as he weaved in and out of traffic. He took his time to be himself.

By the end of the month the police only came to the Costa once to interview his boss, however none of the associate's were questioned and none of the security cameras were taken. Thankfully. As innocent as their exchanges had been Draco couldn't deny that if they checked the surveillance tapes and saw Harry come in and hug him the morning he went missing, it was sure to raise some unnecessary questions. He didn't need that, not now. Not when he was gradually getting used to the world again.

Drawing deep breaths he settled down in his armchair, flicked through the channels and trying to ignore the news headlines for a reminder that Harry was still missing and if anyone had any information they should call the police.

In that moment, Draco was surprised that no one had mentioned he'd been with Harry. Or perhaps his boss had, but hadn't exaggerated just how often they studied together. Either way, they could have easily down-played if enough.

Either way he seemed to be in the clear. Hopefully it would stay that way.

 **~MARCH~**

The stairwell was dark and cold as Draco looked down into the gloom below.

The walls were so thick in this part of the house that he couldn't hear any of the storm that was roaring on the other side of the thick-set bricks. It had all been designed that way. He turned the small switch by the door and watched as three little yellowed bulbs flickered to life, bathing the wooden staircase in a dusty glow. The basement was where his parents kept their fine collection of wines from around the world. They'd been collecting for years. Some bottles had come from his great-grandfather's collection, so a few of them were actually a hundred or so years old. The dust on them was as thick as cream.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he ventured down into the cool cellar, the light overhead casting heavy shadows around him. The elegantly built racks were one of the reasons why his family refused to leave their Estate -yes, he felt pretentious whenever he even thought of the word -but then the gorgeous woodwork was too good to leave behind.

Through the dim light he ran his fingertips over the bottoms of the nearest bottles, the smooth glass sharply cold at his touch. He traced the base of several before letting his hand drop and sighing softly. His fingers curled around the tall wire rack beside him. The metal was cold and bit into his palm, almost chilling his bones. Grinding his teeth together, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end.

His mother and father had traveled to their summer house in France for a little while to spend time with her sister, his aunt. His father was going along because apparently France was a lot more fun than England. Draco almost wished he'd gone with them, but he'd agreed to house-sit for them instead. Not that they needed it but it meant he got access to the numerous books and gadgets they had acquired over the years.

The house was his playground.

His heels clicked on the flagstone floor. The sound echoed a little bit in the cavernous room. A lot of people didn't know about the sub-basement underneath the wine cellar. It was a little series of rooms connected by narrow stone tunnels. They must have been some sort of secret get-away when the house had first been built. The reason why not a lot of people knew about it was because it was incredibly hard to find the entrance to it.

However, Draco had spent a lot of his time exploring the estate during the long cold winters where there was nothing else to do and the roads were too icy to drive on. That's how he'd found the entrance secreted behind the seemingly built-in wine rack at the back of the cellar. It didn't slide out; that would have been too obvious. Instead, as Draco had pleasantly found out, one of the shelves of stacked racks actually pulled out. All Draco needed to do was kneel down, force all his weight into tugging the rack out.

The bottles rattled, now, together as he set about removing the false shelves.

Once removed, he had to slide forward with his legs extended out in front of him. The drop down was only about two feet, but once inside he was able to straighten to his full height and dust himself down. The tunnel was tall, narrow and completely dark. Draco had to use the torch app on his phone in order to guide himself along. It was cold and sent chills running over his skin as he left the entrance open, allowing a small pool of dusty yellow light to wash over his feet.

The tunnel was roughly fifteen foot long and turned sharply at the end. Trailing his fingertips along the wall, Draco stopped as soon as he felt the wall disappear around the corner. Turning, he continued on, the eerie glow from his phone only doing so much to illuminate the way. He came to the first doorway pressed into the wall and stopped, drawing in a deep breath as the white light bounced off every groove and dent in the battered door. Taking the key from his pocket, he slipped it into the old lock. He jiggled it a little bit, before grinding it stiffly in the lock. The door groaned open, the sound echoing loudly throughout the series of tunnels.

It had recently been cleaned, to some extent, since he'd ventured down there to hide some of his more prized possessions. Even his father didn't know about the series of tunnels, as far as he knew.

The room beyond the door was small and stuffy. It was barren save for a series of candles stacked neatly on a shelf, a box of matches squared up next to them. Taking a candle down and securing it into a candle-holder, he struck a match -a difficulty with having to tap the screen on his phone so he could see what he was doing -and watched as the wick caught alight, hissing and causing the light to light up the small chamber.

A single other door was locked, bolted, with a heavy padlock secured to the front.

Using the keys he kept secured to a hook by the door, he took his time enjoying the grating sound of the keys turning in the ancient locks. The door grunted and creaked as he pushed his weight against it, careful not to pant too heavily against the flame.

The tunnel beyond was almost identical to the one he had just left, the stones were thick and heavy, preventing any sound from leaving. The air within, though stuffy, was also cold and cloying. It gave him the most uncomfortable feeling as he shifted along on foot, having to turn at an angle to awkwardly move forward. He could feel the ground slope downwards beneath him, the clamminess of his palms growing as he came to the final door, yet another battered wood edition.

The room was a perfect square, flag-stone floors with heavily cemented brickwork supporting the ceiling. Despite the few amenities that had been shifted down there, there was no denying just how barren the room had originally been. The naked, cold floor had been covered with a rug that offered little comfort against bare, sore feet, a bare excuse for a bed on a wire frame had been pushed up into one corner, a thick throw blanket had been smuggled down along with a pillow.

As soon as the door was closed and locked back in its frame, Draco noticed through the gloom that the lump on the bed had barely moved since that morning. Suppressing a sigh, Draco settled the candle-holder on the tall, narrow case tucked into the corner. One-by-one he used his candle to light the others clustered in each corner of the room, including the small one on a 'side table' pressed up to the bed. As soon as the last candle was lit, he set his own beside it and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"This isn't good for you you know, staying in bed all day," he stated calmly, his tone soothing as the light flickered around him. There was no reply but then he didn't expect there to be, "Come on, surely you've slept enough."

The person sighed, clearly unable to pretend to be asleep for any longer, before rolling onto their back. A pair of green eyes looked back at him and glimmered as the candlelight hit them. "There's nothing much else to do in here," Harry muttered bitterly, sarcasm poisoning his words.

"If you keep sleeping you're going to distort yourself and get ill," Draco stated matter-of-factly. "Now, get up. You need to wash yourself. I can smell you from here."

"You're sitting right next to me, of course you can smell me," Harry bit back darkly.

Draco furrowed his brow and leaned back. Harry had been doing that a lot lately; scowling or frowning whenever Draco came into the room, being sarcastic a lot even when Draco brought him food or something to keep himself entertained with. That was gratitude for you. Swallowing thickly, Draco sighed and stood up from the bed again. "Come on, wake yourself up. I'll go next door and run you a bath," he left no room for argument as he stood up and walked through the narrow doorway cut into the opposite wall.

He left the teenager to sort himself out whilst he went into the neighboring chamber and set about running a bath. It was an ordeal in itself considering that up until that week there hadn't been any electronic devices down there. There still wasn't, not really, there was just a storage of drinking water tanks in one corner as well as a small habatchi. He looked stupid sitting there, heating up a few large pot of water before splashing it into the small tin tub. He had to heat up three saucepans before emptying the other half the water-tank to bring the boiling temperature down just enough to be bearable.

An hour later, the tub was ready. Harry had clearly napped for a little while longer before finally raking his hands through his hair and trudging through into the make-shift bathroom. Standing only in his boxers Draco could clearly see the bruising and welts that had occurred over the first couple of weeks when Harry had woken up in the small underground chamber. They'd argued, rather aggressively -something Draco hadn't anticipated but was nevertheless prepared for -and so one thing had led to another and Draco had struck him down. He hadn't been proud of it at all, but he'd needed to shut the kid up. The screaming had given him a headache for the rest of the night.

Now, over a month and a half later he couldn't deny that he wasn't still a little wary of the teens unpredictability, however he appeared in a docile mood that evening. That eased his trepidation a little. At least there was the possibility that Harry would let him be washed instead of insisting that he could do it all himself and didn't need a 'pervert' to help him.

There were nights where his words cut Draco right through to his heart.

Draco turned in the corner and kept his back to Harry. The hush of cloth rushing over skin and dropping to the floor caught his ear and made his stomach flip. He clenched his fingers into tight fists but didn't turn around until he heard the gentle slosh of water. "Are you decent?" he finally asked, his throat thick with want.

"Yes," came Harry's quiet voice.

Draco turned to see Harry sitting in the tin tub, his knees drawn up to his chin, arms wrapped loosely around his legs. In that moment, Draco regretted ever striking that soft, white flesh but the boy _had_ to be taught a lesson in respect. It had seemed the only option in the heat of the moment. He sincerely hoped he was able to change Harry's opinion of him.

Kneeling down beside the tub, he grabbed a flannel and a bar of soap, Dipping them into the far end of the tub, he frothed the flannel up and held it up, "Are you going to wash yourself or would you rather I do it?" he asked softly.

Harry shrugged, his face resting gloomily on his knobbly knees, "I guess you can do it. My arm hurts anyway, I think I slept on it funny." Oh, it Draco had a penny for every time he heard that excuse in the last week.

He gave a soft smile before adjusting his position, "Alright then." He reached down into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He snapped them on before dipping his hand into the water and taking a whole of Harry's. He straightened his arm out, the fine black hairs covering that tanned skin stood up on end. With the frothed-up flannel he slowly started to scrub the sweaty and cement dust from Harry's skin. There was very little dust, but he knew how much the brunette tossed and turned when he couldn't sleep.

Perhaps he needed to find a way to better ventilate the chambers. A few old pipes were hardly good for the air-ways.

"Why do you wear the gloves?" Harry asked, finally breaking the silence, the candlelight illuminating his skin like a Greek God. His voice was low and he couldn't deny how much he preferred it to the teen's snappish tones.

Draco didn't answer right away. He kept scrubbing the skin, firm but tender as he inched his way up over Harry's shoulders and then down his back. He added a little pressure at the back of Harry's neck and had to bite his lip as Harry sighed contently, a soft, whisper-quiet moan escaping into the silence around them. "Do you like that?" he asked quietly as he washed down the teen's other arm, before easing him to lay back against the rim of the tub.

"Feels nice," the teen murmured sleepily.

Draco frowned a little at that. He needed to look into getting some tablets that would stop Harry from being so sleepy. Maybe he could trust the teen enough to leave him a source of light and something to do during the day. The guilt ate away at him whenever he clambered back up through to the cellar and shifted the wine-rack back into place. However, he didn't need to leave straight away. He could take his time and savour the sight of Harry's wet, gleaming skin, the candlelight reflecting off the muscles in his back.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Will you trust me soon?" he asked in a meek voice.

Draco felt his heart turn to stone and drop in his chest. He hadn't intended to come across as a tyrannical figure. He had only meant to preserve and protect. "I think trust is something that needs to be earned in due course," he answered diplomatically.

"Oh ..."

"Come on, lean your head back and I'll wash your hair," he sighed softly as he drew out a small sachet of shampoo -a silly sample he'd come across in a magazine -and ripped the packet open with his teeth. Harry tipped his head back in an obligatory manner, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed in anticipation, and dipped his head under the water before sitting up abruptly and wiping suds out of his eyes. The gloves made the process awkward, however Draco persevered and threaded his fingers through Harry's dampened hair. The shampoo frothed and bubbled down the back of the brunette's back as Draco scrubbed through the wet mass of black silk. "You look like you're in need for a haircut," he commented as he guided Harry to lean down toward the water, his knees up and splayed his soft manhood floating lazily between them.

Draco had to focus all of his attention on rinsing the shampoo from Harry's hair. It was proving a very difficult task. Once his hair was completely rinsed, Draco decided to let him have a few moments of privacy to wash the rest of himself before eventually getting out of the tub. There was only a small hand-towel for Harry to dry himself off with. Draco had snapped his disposable gloves off and had then gotten a fresh pair of pyjamas ready and laid them out on the bed, from the small drawer under the bed. They were a plain, light blue and especially soft as he smoothed out a crease on the top.

"Can you stand in the corner when I get changed?" Harry's voice came from the 'bathroom' even though Draco didn't see him in the doorway.

"Of course," he gave one last stroke of the fabric, imagining it soon touching Harry's skin, before turning away and standing in the corner of the room, his hands behind his back. He heard the soft pattering of Harry's feet moving across the cool floor, before the hush of warm, clean fabric was pulled onto his skinny frame.

"I'm ready," Harry finally mumbled.

Draco turned on the spot and smiled sweetly. This was one of his favourite parts of visiting Harry. "Okay, do you have any preferences?" he asked as he flexed his fingers behind his back.

Harry shook his head lazily, "Whatever you like will be fine."

Draco inclined his head before taking the key from his pocket and going into the bathroom. He made sure that Harry hadn't followed him before finding the false stone where he'd put a small safe in the hole. Using the key and the padlock combination, he opened the safe and frowned through the dull light to look at the few books he'd moved down there a month ago. Finally, he settled on 'DARKER THEN YOU THINK'; something about that particular book seemed to knit Harry and him together in a comfortable silence.

Back in the 'bed chamber' Harry was already tucked into bed, slouching low on the pillows with the throw blanket pulled over his body. He looked adorable as his hair dried naturally in the warm room. Draco went back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom, bringing in more and more candles to cast a better light for him to read by. He really should update the place. Harry had been behaving a lot better recently after all.

According to his phone, he read to Harry for about two hours before the green eyes slowly fell closed. He sat there for a while, hunched over with his elbows on his knees simply gazing at Harry as he slept soundly on his back. His lips were parted as he breathed steadily. He truly did look so beautiful, especially with the light flickering soft shadows over his face.

Finally, an alarm vibrated his phone and he was unable to delay returning to the land of fresh air and sunlight any longer. With a soft sigh, he leaned back and moved the chair back into the bathroom before staring down at the empty tub. It would take him ages to drain the damned thing. Perhaps he would simply do it tomorrow.

He blew out a few more of the candles before leaning over Harry and tentatively taking the glasses off his nose. The teen's nose twitched but other than that he didn't stir. Draco smiled, feeling as though he was about to drown in the affection he felt for the younger boy. His fingers itched to touch that now dried hair, but he refrained himself. Swallowing thickly, he straightened up and used the last candle to light his way as he left the boy to sleep.

Draco made his way out of the sub-basement chambers as quickly as he physically could through the tight tunnels. By the time he climbed up into the cellar and moved the wine rack back into place, he was coated in a fine layer of cement-dust.

He really needed to improve the living conditions down there.

Better late than never ... As long as Harry behaved.

 **~APRIL~**

Draco gave his two weeks' notice in right before the Easter holidays. He got double pay for working on a select few days but as soon as his last Friday came by, he was out of the door like a bullet from a gun. He knew the day had to have come at some point, he just hadn't anticipated how much work taking care of Harry would be, especially when he needed to make excuses to disappear for hours at a time.

He didn't tell his parents though. He kept the pretence of working so that he had an excuse to tell his parents in order to vanish for a while and sneak down to the cellar. He simply told them he'd had his position transferred.

They believed him, too, which made him feel a little guilty; not enough to care, just enough for him to be aware of the emotion.

Keeping Harry entertained was proving to be quite difficult; despite the books, battery powered lights, puzzles, and cooler to keep more food and drinks in there to keep him going during the times when Draco wasn't there, he still managed to find room for complaints. Draco couldn't deny that he was getting rather annoyed by the young boys' disdain whenever he denied him the privilege of sunlight or fresh air. If he let Harry go above ground they would both get into a lot of trouble, but the boy simply didn't see that. Couldn't he see that Draco was preserving him before he came of legal age? Couldn't he understand that he was trying to harness Harry's innocence and purity for when he actually knew what to do with it?

No, of course he didn't, because those relatives he lived with were dishonourable silly human beings who couldn't teach their own child manners and respect, let alone their nephew.

Unfortunately, there was not much else he could do; sometimes he sent the young boy to 'bed' without supper, which would literally just me covered cold cuts he brought down from the kitchens when his parents had finally retired for the evening, or gone out for drinks with their own friends. The most recent complaint had been the lack of television downstairs. Draco often remarked that if Harry only just got battery powered lights, how much electronic devices did he expect to own underground? Not to mention, Harry's mind was young and clearly impressionable; why did he need to sully it with television or the glare from the laptop screen?

Draco wanted to focus his mind on reading and expanding the creative sections of his brain by, mostly, using his imagination. It had worked for him when his parents had assigned him reading for at least one hour after dinner during the weekdays. He simply wanted to impart some of his own wisdom; was there truly anything wrong with that?

According the nightly newscast; yes, yes there was something wrong with that.

Harry's aunt and uncle had made a public appeal for whomever had taken their 'beloved nephew' should return him as soon as possible so that he could come home and make a go of life. Draco sneered at it before changing the channels. How dare they go public and be pathetic, snivelling excuses of guardians. They hadn't cared for Harry –they had constantly belittled him, demanded ridiculous things off him and not once did they care about his school-grades –and yet now when there was so much media attention on them, they had to plea and bargain with the invisible demon that they made him out to be and even dare to demand things off him.

That was all well and good but that didn't mean Draco was going to bother acknowledging them, let alone dignifying their behaviour with a response. They were trying to make him out to be a monster and he was anything but. All he was trying to do was offer Harry something more than his guardians had; he was offering him the freedom to be moulded into a better person, to have manners respect, things he already had but that needed to be polished up a little bit.

Harry wasn't perfect and Draco knew that, had accepted it as a part of himself. No one would ever be 'perfect' but Harry was as close as humanly possible –he just needed a finer shine on him.

With a sigh, Draco flipped the TV onto a mindless documentary channel, one that wouldn't have the news on every half an hour, and drew a file off the side-table and into his lap. Recently he'd gotten into the habit of advancing Harry's current studies; when he finally decided to let the young boy back out into the world he would have an education far superior than that of any average college in the local area. At the moment, his mathematics had dramatically improved, as well as that of History. A lot of the schools nowadays were very suffocating in their lack of educations of any other monarchs other than King Henry the eighth and the 'virgin' Queen Elizabeth. The rest was rather vague.

Draco was changing that for him; they were learning all about the first settlers, the Vikings and even the deformed King Richard. He felt a little mean for setting essay homework, but he needed to know that Harry wasn't only paying attention when Draco was in the room. By the sounds of it, he was actually absorbing what Draco taught him. And considering the first few essays he'd written before Draco had brought down the textbooks and tomes from his parents' library, Harry had learned a great deal.

It made Draco feel proud of his achievements.

Harry was improving mentally and he couldn't deny that Draco had been the sole cause of it all.

As soon as he had finished reading, and graded, Harry's current history essay, he placed it inside the plastic folder and stretched his arms out in front of him. He would need to make a trip to London the following day; he felt like Harry deserved some better sort of gift for being so well-behaved lately. He even said 'please' and 'thank you' whenever he asked something of the blond man. It was pleasing to hear him learn the proper way to speak to his elders.

The only reason question left was what to get Harry as a reward for his improvement?

Perhaps he could simply ask Harry? Now that it had been a few months with him adjusting to life underground, he was hardly going to ask for a 'walk in the park' like he had the first couple of weeks. It was a good thing too, that he'd learned just who was in charge.

He felt incredibly guilty that he got to eat a lot of hot food whilst Harry had to suffer with cold cuts, despite the habatchi that was down there. Maybe a proper cooked dinner would do the kid some good?

Yes, Draco decided, that was what he would do.

~0~

"Just a few more steps, follow the sound of my voice and be careful not to trip!" Draco's voice echoed along the narrow tunnel as he led a Harry down into another chamber. He had spent a lot of time in making the little room as sweet as possible for Harry's little reward-meal.

"I'm glad you didn't want to blindfold me," Harry said, his voice wavering as he felt along the wall behind the tall blonde, "It's hard enough to follow you let alone if I were."

Draco smiled but said nothing as he held the fat candle a little higher in front of him. A couple more feet and they had come to the fragile door that rested in the frame. Under the edge of the door, there was a delightfully warm, golden glow. Draco pushed his weight against the door, wrinkling his nose as he felt cement dust fall into his hair, before stepping back and letting the gold light illuminate the tunnel. The light hit Harry full-on and he had to blink in surprise and frown as his gaze adjusted to the sudden brightness.

Draco smiled as he watched the surprise register on Harry's adorable face; his jaw went slack and his eyes became as wide as saucers. "Oh … Wow …" was all he seemed able to say as he edged through the doorway and into the room itself. Draco closed the door behind them.

"So you like it then?" he asked, somewhat surprised at how anxious he'd actually been at giving Harry such freedom and enjoyment just by doing something like this for him.

Harry went to rub a hand through his neatly styled hair –courtesy of Draco of course –but stopped halfway through. "I … wasn't expecting it," he turned his wide eyes to the blonde man, "What's all this for?"

"I know I've been coming down quite hard on you lately, and I just wanted you to know that you're hard work hasn't gone unnoticed," he turned to face the younger boy, his hands holding onto the back of a dining room chair for support, "This is my way of rewarding you. You've done really well and I'm –well –I'm proud of you, Harry."

The teenager blushed and ducked his head, wringing his hands a little awkwardly in front of him, "You really didn't have to."

"Oh, but I did," Draco assured with a serious face, "You've done so well these past couple of weeks. You deserve to be rewarded." Walking around he pulled out the other chair and smiled encouragingly as Harry hesitated before sinking into the chair and allowing Draco to tuck him a little under the table. "Now, hopefully you don't mind the meal I brought down for you."

"Is it cooked?" Harry asked, a wary look on his face as his gaze flickered to the covered dishes on the rough-looking 'side-table'.

Draco paused, his back to the teen, his hands already lifting the plate from the table. His knuckles flashed white. He could easily turn around and smack the inconsiderate brat across the face –however, on the other hand it _would_ be a treat for him, at this point, to have a cooked meal. He was merely being inquisitive. Draco let it slide, begrudgingly. Instead, he gave a tight little smile and carried the plates over to the table, setting them down with care before taking the silver-domed covers off. "There you go, roast beef, potatoes, greens that you _will_ be eating," he gave a stern look before smiling easily again, "And an extra special treat for dessert."

Harry was about to answer when his stomach gave a loud growl. He chuckled sheepishly and Draco had to admit, in that moment, he was adorable. With shrewd eyes, Draco rested his chin on his pleated fingertips so he could observe Harry; he obediently tucked the napkin into his collar without hesitation, straightened up in the chair and then looked up at the blonde with a new glow that made Draco's heart twist. Clearing his throat, he poured them each a glass of red wine –he really was going all-out to treat the boy –and placed his own napkin on his lap. The soft clinking of cutlery soon started up and the tension in both of them dwindled away as they filled their stomachs. Draco couldn't deny how much of a wonderful cook his mother was.

"This is amazing!" Harry exclaimed brightly as he took a sip from his wine glass, shuddering a little. He was unused to the taste of wine and it showed on his face. Draco's mouth twitched a little as he took a long sip from his own glass. "Did your mum cook this?"

Draco inclined his head, "Yes my mother did cook. It's what we always have on a Sunday evening."

"So it's Sunday today then?" Harry asked. Draco's head snapped up, his eyes cold and hard. Harry seemed to notice his mistake instantly and shrunk down in his chair, "I … I didn't mean … It was just a follow-up question! I'm sorry!"

"You know you're not allowed to talk about those sorts of things," Draco stated darkly, taking his time to cut his food with rough, jagged movements. Each scrape of the knife hurt his ears but he hoped that it pricked at the teen's consciousness. It seemed to have the desire effect as Harry visibly pushed his chair out from under the table and shied away further from the table.

"Draco, sir, I am sorry I didn't mean it!" Harry couldn't help but whimper pathetically as he cowered in his chair.

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I try and I try with you, Harry, but you're just not learning!" he slammed his fist against the table top, the glasses and cutlery rattling in the eerie silence that had befallen the chambers.

"I am learning, Draco, you know I am!" Harry cried out defiantly, "I'm doing everything for you to keep you happy! I slipped up and I'm sorry!"

"Are you talking back to me?" the blonde growled darkly, his hair falling in front of his eyes. The candlelight caught on the sharp contours of his face and he looked twice as harrowing as before.

"I … N-no," Harry managed to mumble, pressing his back up against his seat.

"So now you're _lying_ to me?" Draco asked, a malicious sneer forming on his mouth. He let out a sharp, hysterical laugh, "You're _lying_ to _me_?"

"I'm sorry," Harry finally mumbled, his head bowed to his chest.

"What. Was. That?" Draco snapped. Slamming his fist against the table he was thrilled at the way the teenager jumped at the sudden sound. "Don't you dare mumble to me! You know I hate the mumbling!"

Harry flinched but kept his eyes downcast. The empty plates rattled and the small wine bottle jingled as Draco pushed his chair back from under the table and towered over everything within the vicinity. "Please …"

Draco blinked in shock but instantly regained his disapproving demeanour. Harry was starting to cry, the deep, wet breaths dragging through the air and making his heart twist painfully in his chest. The urge to wrap the brat up in his arms and console him was over-whelming, but he refused himself the temptation. Straightened up he glared down at the teenager, "Get up."

Harry clumsily got to his feet, his face and eyes still downcast as he clenched his jaw in a struggle not to cry.

"Stop that snivelling!" Draco snapped, "What are you, five?"

Harry shook his head, his unkempt fringe dropping down in front of his eyes.

"In front of me. Now!" he demanded coldly, dragging a pair of gloves out of his pocket and snapping the on.

The snapping of the latex made Harry flinch both times; he kept his eyes trained on the floor and his muscles were as stiff as stone as he walked the few paces in front of Draco. The blonde man towered over him. "D-Draco … Please … I didn't mean it," he spoke as clearly as his tear-logged throat would allow.

"I know you didn't mean it, Harry," he stated in a calm, cool voice and flexed his shoulders, "That doesn't negate the fact that you still disobeyed my rules. Do you know why I have the rules for you?"

"To keep my safe and happy?"

"Precisely, and what did you do?"

"Disobeyed … You," the teen whimpered.

"You know what needs to be done now, don't you?"

Harry finally looked up at him; his bright green eyes were wide and fearful with tears clinging to his thick, black lashes. "Please …" his lip wobbled as he pleased with older man. He didn't want his punishment, then again punishment was never meant to be a good thing. Draco beckoned with his fingers and Harry hesitated before reluctantly sliding his arm into the blonde man's waiting palm. Draco turned the skinny forearm in his fingers and let the candlelight catch on the few puckered welts already there. Draco drew out a fine blade from his jacket pocket and turned it this way and that, letting the flat side catch the light. Harry flinched, his muscle tense in Draco's grip as he pressed the razor fine tip against Harry's flesh. A large bead of red blood rushed to the surface and Harry let out a choked cry as Draco drew a quick line across the four others already there. Now Harry had an even tally of ten strikes. Draco placed the knife on the table before pressing his thumb hard against the open wound to stem the flow.

Harry let out a strangled cry, tears falling freely down his cheeks as his arm trembled beneath Draco's touch.

"Shh, shh, shh! I know it stings but you knew what was at stake here. See?" he gestured with Harry's own arm, "Ten strikes this month. You need to learn how to behave, sweetheart." Harry quivered and cuffed at his nose. He tried to twist out of Draco's arm but the blonde man held onto him even tighter, curling his fingers firmly around the thin arm. "Do you really think that struggling is going to help you?" he asked his voice somewhat calmer as he swiped a napkin off the table and pressed it onto the weeping wound.

He let Harry take control of pressing the napkin to his fresh cut. Harry turned away a little and eyed the blonde as he drew a chair out from under the table and sank down into it. He sighed heavily dropping his hand down into his hands. "Sit down, Harry," he waved the boy down into the chair adjacent to him.

Harry obliged.

Draco reached over and took the boys hands in his own, despite the brunette struggling, "I don't like hurting you Harry, you know that, right?"

"Then why do you do it?" the boy asked in a small, curious voice.

Draco licked his lips before squeezing the smooth hands, "Because I feel like I don't know how to control you. I want you perfect and beautiful just the way you but I know you won't stay this way forever."

Harry watched him with steady eyes. He looked unnerved, as though he wasn't sure what the older man was going to do next.

Draco sighed and dropped his gaze to their hands. He licked his lips and rubbed at his temples. "Here, let me wrap your wrist and then you can go to bed," it was a clear dismissal and a rather abrupt end to their time together.

"I don't want to go to bed," Harry finally mumbled somewhat defiantly.

"You don't have a choice. Considering we won't be having dessert tonight and dinner is already finished, there's nothing else for you to do. Now clean yourself up and go to bed," he slapped the plaster onto Harry's wrist, knowing it must sting. Ordinarily that would have been the end of the matter; however Harry seemed more than content in getting punished even more as he stood up as tall as he could, barely meeting Draco's shoulder. Draco eyed him up and down in a bemused manner before sighing and reaching toward the knife again.

Harry shocked him by knocked the knife into the corner of the room and stepping in between both the knife and the blonde. "I'm not going to let you cut me again, Draco!" he snapped, his small hands clenching into fists, "You promised a nice evening, dinner and dessert. If I have to behave then you have to keep your promises to me! I made one mistake –"

"This is technically your second," Draco cut in coolly.

Harry pursed his lips before continuing, "I made one ' _official'_ mistake," he stressed through gritted teeth, "and I was punished for it. Now can't we just continue the rest of the meal?"

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You have no damned right to demand anything of me you snivelling little brat! How dare you try and demand _anything_!" In two long strides he had crossed the room. Raising his hand he whipped it in an arc, his knuckles connecting sharply with Harry's cheekbone.

Blood roared in his ears as he watched the skinny teen's head crack backwards, how he lost his footing and then fall down to the floor, small clouds of cement dust rising into the air. Harry let out a pitiful groan and coughed up blood as he hunched into a ball and pressed his chin to his chest. Draco was at war with himself; on the one hand he needed to discipline Harry but right now, as he saw the wounded little boy on the floor, blood coating his nose and mouth as well as a few specks on the floor, he just wanted to scoop him up in his arms and cradle him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. But it wasn't.

This is how is started; with defiance.

Harry finally dragged himself up with his back pressed against the wall as he peered up at Draco with his messed hair. He was crying and bleeding and Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. Swiping up a napkin he tossed it down at Harry and walked to the doorway. "Clean yourself up. You're sleeping in here tonight. _That_ is your punishment for defying me," Draco stated in an icy voice, one that reminded him of when his father had punished him when he was a child. He hated the sound of his voice, but sometimes it was the only way to guarantee that insolent children learned their lessons.

"Wait … Please Draco don't!" Harry scrambled over on his knees and almost got his hand caught in the door as he missed grabbing Draco's trousers as he disappeared through the door. Draco pulled the door to with a loud 'BANG!' before grinding the key in the lock. Those candles wouldn't last for much longer and Harry was going to loathe sleeping on the rough concrete floor, with no comfort and barely anything to eat, just the dessert that Draco had forgotten to take with him. That wouldn't last long either. He deserved it though. " _Draco! Draco!_ " Harry called his voice a muffled echo as he banged on the door with his weak fists.

Draco stood in the narrow tunnel, his chest tight and his breathing rough as he listened to the frantic banging of the panicking teenager. Swallowing thickly, the aftertaste of their ruined meal still bitter on his tongue, he drew a long shuddering breath.

" _Draco please! Let me out! Draco!_ "

Closing his eyes tightly her turned on his heel and tucked the ring of keys into his pocket. He took some twisted thrill from the thought of Harry kneeling on the other side of the door and crying his beautiful, green eyes out, bleeding onto his nice clean clothes and listening as Draco's shoes clicked further and further away. It was oddly satisfying.

He listened to the pleas all the way to the secret entrance in the cellar floor. He strained to make sure he could still hear them, to let the guilt burrow down deep in his heart like a parasite, willing it to fester there and eat him alive from the inside out. With a final sigh, he placed his palms on the ledge and hauled himself up at an angle, before sliding up into the cellar. The room was empty and quiet, just the way he'd left it. Good. He placed the false racks in front of the small entrance.

With one final glance down at the entrance, he turned on his heel, swiped a good vintage from the shelf, excuse prepared, and quickly strode up to the main floor of his families estate just in time for dinner with his parents.

He clicked the light off before locking the door in place.

 **~MAY~**

Other than the initial return to the underground chambers to clean up the decaying food, chisel wax off the floor and take the cutlery away, Draco refused to go down to the chambers to spend any time with Harry. Not after the way he'd behaved. Draco couldn't get the defiant look out of his mind; it was like those bright green eyes haunted his dreams … and not the normal, pleasurable ones. His mother and father were none the wiser of the goings-on right underneath their floorboards and Draco took solace in that fact. His evenings were uneventful for a whole week; he took the time to indulge his mother's shopping trips during the day and listen to his father prattle on about his work as a lawyer. It was nice to have something else to focus his attention on. However, as soon as a week had ended, Draco could refuse himself no longer; he needed to go down to the underground chambers and make sure that Harry was still alive, and if not … Well he would deal with that later.

The weather was steadily getting warmer and as Draco finished washing up the dishes after one particularly long dinner, he couldn't help but wonder about just how stifling it would get underground for Harry. With hardly any breathable air, except for the weak amounts ventilated down there, the young boy was sure to suffocate. Perhaps he should be moved? Draco could find another place, different to his one flat in London, and keep Harry in a basement there? Somewhere he could live a little easier but without the cement dust … or at least, without copious amounts of the stuff. Draco sighed and bent his head over the soapy water; this had truly been a reckless endeavour. He needed to make a decision; should he keep Harry all for himself, or should he risk his own incarceration just to let the boy free?

Shaking his head he frowned; no, neither option seemed remotely plausible.

Dipping his hand into the warm water he grasped the handle of a long knife and pulled it out. As he idly cleaned and rinsed the thing, the light winked off the blade and the world seemed to freeze. Then again … There was always another way.

That night as Draco lie in his childhood bedroom –extensively modernised of course –he tried to imagine a world where Harry did in fact return to the world of London, only not in the way that anyone had anticipated. Well, they probably were thinking along those lines _now_ but they'd refused to accept it, even if it did come true. Everything had to come to an end, even his 'fascination'. He needed to think of it that way as calling it an 'obsession' meant that something was wrong with him, that he needed to be tested and analysed and go through tedious sessions of psychotherapy to understand his 'deluded' ideas of preservation.

Either way, he just couldn't picture it; in none of his fantasies or twisted dreams could he imagine Harry lying cold, blue and naked on a metal table with long scars stapled across his chest. He treasured the boy too much to let that happen to him.

Besides, he didn't like to get dirty; why on earth would he willingly cut the boy open? It made no logical sense to him, but the world didn't know that. It was silly to think that they would know that they would understand in any way, as to why he adored Harry so much. Many would no doubt antagonize for years to come if he'd done it for some perverse, sexual gratification despite a lot of proof on the contrary.

Although he couldn't deny that something needed to be done about their current situation. Perhaps he would ask Harry was he would truly like to do, in his heart of hearts? Perhaps the answer wouldn't break his own after all.

Realistically he knew that he needed to be practical. He needed to get Harry away and make sure that he was safe. He needed to make sure that the young boy knew that he hadn't been kidnapped, not really. He'd been rescued –it was merely that the media didn't see it that way. However, the hype was dying down a little now. Maybe with some creative clothing they could move away, even if it was just to Scotland. Possibly France if they were lucky enough.

Regardless, he was getting too confident that people wouldn't recognise a teenager who had had his face plastered all over the news, every form of media that glared to the , he was getting too confident that people wouldn't recognise a teenager who had had his face plastered all over the news, every form of media that glared to the public.

"Oh, Draco you've really gotten yourself into a mess this time, haven't you?" he murmured to himself as he turned on his side and hugged the pillow a little tighter. "What the hell am I going to do?"

' _Give him an ultimatum and go along with whatever he decides_ ,' suggest the voice in his head.

He scoffed, "But what would I give as a suggestion?"

' _To stay and live … Or leave and die_.'

Oddly enough, it made sense. Harry was his now; he needed to do what he thought was best. Even if it was the last thing Harry saw him do.

 **~JUNE~**

For a month it was almost as though their way of life went on as it once had the only different being that Draco was detached both emotionally and physically from the young boy. He made sure to let the boy have as much independence as he wanted. It had been horrible forcing the boy to live in a pathetic, filthy state for over a month, only giving him the bare necessities after his performance in April. Harry was becoming quite desperate to please him, but was coming to the realisation that Draco could not be won over so easily with his soft pleas, gently crooning's and the willing obedience he displayed even for the most menial of tasks. Each he did without complaint, and still Draco seemed to have lost interest in him.

Harry couldn't wrap his head around it; Draco had adored him until he'd struck him. That hadn't been the first time it had happened, but oddly enough it had been the last. Since then Draco hadn't touched him and Harry found himself craving any form of physical contact, even if it was with the blonde's silly latex gloves. Harry understood he couldn't be touched, but he was unable to think of how to please the blonde without offending him. Every breath seemed to vex him these days.

He had been thinking on it for days. He had sneakily gotten out of Draco some important dates and knew that they must be in June now –or at the very least late May –but Harry was determined to do something for the blonde man's birthday. He felt so restricted but he knew that there was something he could do for him. Once upon a time he knew that he'd never have done something like this, however he also knew that that 'Harry' –the old 'Harry' –was dead and buried. He had been grown and nurtured by Draco; he had been treasured and mentally improved. It was true he wished he could have grown stronger if nothing else before his own sixteenth, but regardless Draco was his sole focus now.

A shiver ran through him as he heard the sound of distant footsteps walking through the network of tunnels. His heart jumped in his chest; was it truly pathetic how excited he got at the prospect of seeing Draco? Was it sickening just how thrilled he felt whenever the blonde swept his eyes over him? His stomach knotted a little as the footsteps grew louder.

He sat up straighter on his bed, the candle flickering as his breathing grew heavier in his chest. The excitement rushed through him like adrenaline. The key ground in the lock and swung inwards, the numerous candles stuttering as cooler air rushed into the room.

Draco glanced at him before his gaze dropped to the floor, "Good evening Harry."

He could feel his smile widen, "Good evening, sir, how was your day?"

"Tedious and nothing that would interest you," he waved his hand dismissively as he closed and locked the door behind him, before taking a seat in the corner of the room and settling down in it. Harry couldn't deny that the combined lamplight and candlelight made beautiful shadows catch on the contours of the blonde's features. It was definitely a sight Harry could never tire of looking at. "What have you done with yourself today?"

Harry panicked for a second before deciding that honesty was the best policy for his sake. "Honestly, sir? I was thinking a lot about what I can do for you for your birthday. It's coming up soon, isn't it?"

Draco inclined his head, "Yes it is. It's tomorrow actually."

Harry felt his smile grow even wider, "That's perfect!"

Draco blinked in wry amusement, "Oh really? And why is that?"

"Like I said I've been thinking all day about what to do for your birthday and I think I've come up with a good idea, however, I need to you hear me out … That is, if you don't mind?" he finished rather timidly. He couldn't let himself get carried away, no matter how excited he felt. There was still the possibility that Draco would dismiss his idea completely –he hadn't been very forthcoming with praise lately and it broke Harry's heart.

To his surprise, Draco's mouth twitched into a little smirk. He seemed enthralled with the idea of Harry getting so excited despite not being able to go shopping for presents or has the ability for baking a birthday cake. He was amused at the fact that Harry was practically bounding off the chamber walls with childish delight. He couldn't deny how bright Harry seemed. Harry looked as though he had the urge to hurry over to him and touch him. He truly was showing a great deal of restraint. Smiling a little wider he waved his hand in an arc. He was feeling in a genial mood today, despite his last few restless nights, "Alright then, let me hear what you've thought of."

"Okay, well I was thinking about what you said –what you've always said –about how you wanted to preserve me just the way I am. I also noticed something about you that, whilst I find really sweet, I think you've conditioned your life around it,"

Draco blinked in surprise. Harry was being decisive and articulate –he couldn't deny the pride swelling within his chest.

"I know you like to wear the gloves when you touch me," he hedged warily, "but I was thinking that since it's your birthday … I could let you touch me _without_ the gloves on."

And just like that the pride changed to trepidation.

Draco leaned back in his chair and placed his hands in his lap. A frown formed a little crease between his eyebrows. He couldn't deny that the thought had crossed his mind numerous times. However, to _sully_ Harry's pure body with his disgusting, parasitic DNA … Good God, why would he dare do such a thing? Dropping his head down and shuddered a little, "I'm sorry Harry. I can understand that you think this is truly something I would want but –" His throat ran dry when he looked up.

Harry was standing in front of him completely naked, the candlelight highlighting just how malnourished he was. His ribs stuck out as did his bony knees and cheekbones. In that moment Draco saw just how beautiful he was and just how ugly Draco's influence had wrecked him. He was still beautiful –he always would be –but in the dim light filling the chamber Draco had no trouble in deciding what to do for the young boy. He swallowed thickly as Harry crossed the space between them, and took Draco's covered wrist in his hand and slowly drew the hand upwards. Draco felt his skin grow hot as his hand grew warmer the closer to Harry's skin. His fingers twitched urgently, almost desperate for the touch … but it was wrong!

"No!" he snatched his hand away and jumped to his feet, trying to put as much distance between himself and the teenager as possible, "I can't do this! You've completely missed the point!" he whirled around to look at Harry. "I cannot touch you, Harry, no one can touch you! You are perfection! You are the opposite of me in every way! You're beautiful, and smart and innocent. You're incapable of becoming like me, and do the things I've done. You'll have everything I could ever want and more! I can't touch you, I just can't!"

Harry flinched and grabbed his underwear off the floor. He had been foolish! He hadn't wanted Draco to get angry at him. It just proved that he didn't know the blonde man at _all_. He felt his head burn up with desperate tears. Before any could shed, however, he felt the wind get knocked out of him and the concrete floor rushed up to meet him. He could taste blood in his mouth as his vision blurred. His glasses clattered off somewhere in the distance. The tears ran down his cheeks. He snivelled and couldn't control himself; he curled in on himself as best as he could to avoid the worst of the blows. A little while later he barely managed to acknowledge that there were no more blows to his head or body, but the pain swelling within him was too raw for him to ignore.

His cheek stung where Draco's signet ring had cut him. He'd never worn it at the coffee shop but had taken pride in wearing it at 'home'. Or perhaps he wore it when he preordained punishing Harry.

He did however, blink in surprise when he felt Draco's hands pick him up and cradle him against his chest. Through the red haze of pain and nausea Harry just about made out the words; " _See what you made me do to you? You silly, silly boy! Why would you torment me this way? After everything I've done for you! Honestly, sweetheart, when will you ever learn!_ "

Harry choked a little on the saliva and blood lazily running down his chin, "I'm … Sorry …"

Draco shook his head against Harry's where the teen was tucked under his chin. He stroked his fingers through the matted black hair, "No, no my darling I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you think it was a good idea."

"D-Draco …"

"Shh, shh, don't talk. You need to rest now. Let's not talk anymore about this, alright?" Using all his strength, he picked Harry up off the floor –feeling sick at just how light he'd gotten through numerous 'bed-without-dinner' incidents. Turning to place the teen in the bed, he made sure the pillows were plumped; the covers were warm and covering every inch of the brunette, before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "There you go, my love, all wrapped up and warm now," he brushed the dark hair out of Harry's dazed eyes before turning away.

Just as he was about to go and blow out the candles and let Harry rest after his ordeal, his wrist was snatched by Harry's determined grip. He froze and turned to look down at the bruised teen. "Don't leave me … Not like this," he mumbled, his lips swollen and peppered with spots of dried blood.

"Harry … you know I can't," Draco shook his head.

Harry tilted his head to the side, "But sir … You already have." As if to illustrate his point, Harry raised Draco's hand into the blonde's line of vision.

It was like the world had frozen; despite all the carefully placed rules to follow Draco had made the biggest folly ever! He had touched Harry without a protective layer of latex between their skins! "Oh God what have I done?" he breathed, staring at his hand as though it were about to grow fangs and rip out his throat.

Harry shook his head, a dazed smile on his face, "Honestly Draco, I don't mind. You're doing this for my benefit, but as long as it's just you and just me, where's the harm? I'm yours, aren't I? Only yours … I'm not going to let that change! Are –Are you?"

Draco shook his head, "No, of course not. I still don't know if I can do this to you."

Harry locked his eyes with those steely grey eyes –the eyes of his deepest fantasies –and licked the blood on his lips. A shiver ran through him as he steered Draco a little closer to him. "I want you to … Please Draco? I want to be yours completely."

That was all it took, in the end. Harry had said those magic words and Draco was lost.

~0~

It could've been the last thing at night or even first thing in the morning. Regardless, Draco didn't know and couldn't bring himself to care.

The soft glow in the chambers was dim, only a few candles flickered on the makeshift side-table; illuminating Harry's sleeping face and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. At the back of his mind there was a faint voice whispering of how he had ruined Harry forever and defiled him. His hand was curled into the corner of the single pillow on the bed; it would be so easy to take it in his hands and smother the boy as he slept. Preserve his beauty and what was left of his innocence, but then all of his hard work –their hard work –would have been a wasted effort.

Uncurling his hand from the pillow, he pressed a fleeting kiss to Harry's forehead. He wasn't a killer –many things yes, but he wasn't a killer.

With a sigh he slipped off the bed and started to dress himself. Harry's body had imprinted onto his skin and every hair on his body felt electrically charged. It was like he had satiated an ache that he hadn't known he'd had until that moment. It was oddly satisfying but it had also opened up a door for him. A door that led to a lot of the same desire and he had to admit, he was curious to dive down the rabbit hole and explore.

Buttoning up his shirt, he straightened himself up just as Harry was starting to stir. That's when he heard something strange, something that shouldn't be there –not yet at least.

"Hi ..." Harry spoke up shyly behind him.

"Shh!" he ordered, holding up a finger to silence the boy.

Harry clamped his mouth shut, unsure that Draco would be able to hear anything over the thunderous roar of his heart. That's when he caught the sound too; it was a vague skittering of something along the cement grit, something causing a disturbance in the tranquillity beyond the chamber door. It made the hairs all of his body stand up on end. He swallowed thickly, drawing his knees to his chest as quietly as possible, wincing as the pain shot through him. His entire body was bruised and swollen in places; he would love nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sleep for a few days.

The noise grew louder and both Draco and Harry held their breath.

The grinding of the door hand in the old lock made Draco's teeth grind. His skin was clammy with sweat and his breathing was stiff in his chest.

The door crashed open, splintering as it banged heavily against the chamber wall. Standing in the doorway was a blonde man whom Harry had never seen but could instantly recognise as Draco's father. He didn't know him as anything other than 'Mister Malfoy'. He had to admit, the man was rather frightening; he was tall with hard, cold eyes that cut through the air like steel blades, and his sleek white-blonde hair was immaculate, save for two single strands fallen in front of his eyes, giving him a rather wild look.

Although, that may have also been due to the fact that he was pointing a gun at his only son.

Harry was frozen as he stared at the gun. Draco barely moved a muscle as he took a step sideways, obscuring Harry's direct view of Mr. Malfoy and the gun.

"I didn't want to believe it," he started slowly, saliva frothing between his gritted teeth, "but when I was down in the cellar earlier I heard some rather –shall we say –loud noises coming from down here." He let out a rough, manic laugh that made ice pool in the pit of Draco's stomach. He hadn't seen that wild look in his father's eyes for years, not since the last time he had been beaten with a cane in the study for spilling ink over a semi-precious tome in the library. "Granted it took me a while to figure out how to get down here but, well, I'm rather relieved I came prepared."

"Why would you need a gun?" Draco asked his voice tight in his throat.

"Intruders need to be shot," Mr. Malfoy curled his lips, "And I didn't know what was down here, intruders or some form of animal."

"Well now you know, so you can put the gun."

Mr. Malfoy shook his head, "Unfortunately, I cannot do that. Not only have I found my son –and yes I looked in on those other rooms –but I've also found the boy whose been missing for six months. Do you have any idea how much danger you've put yourself in?" he sneered.

"No one suspected!" Draco hissed, "None of this is going to come back on you!"

"That's not the point!" Mr. Malfoy spat out, "When the media finds out it will destroy us. You'll be arrested! Do you understand that?"

"Of course I do!" Draco snapped in a bored tone. "You don't think I took precautions!"

"Clearly not considering you still took him and brought him here," Mr. Malfoy growled darkly, "Now, get dressed boy," he barked at Harry. "You're to come upstairs and we're going to straighten our story out before I hand you over to the police."

For once Draco had nothing to say. Harry frowned up between the two men, the tension in the room so thick it stuck in his lungs like quicksand. "M-Mr. Malfoy …"

"Silence! Now hurry up and get dressed!" he yelled at the young boy. Harry was shocked into silence before he took the clothes Draco had carelessly tossed on the floor beside the bed. He tried to keep the blankets covering his nether regions, not wanting his genitals to freeze off under Mr. Malfoy's gaze.

He climbed into his clothes, unable to look up. All the while, the thoughts rushing through his mind terrified him; he was going to be taken above ground, to the land of fresh air and cooked food? To the world of lots of leg room and space to run about in? To run at _all_? Suddenly it was incredibly difficult for him to catch his breath as he clumsily tugged on a pair of socks and toed on his old, worn trainers. He hadn't worn them since … January.

He shuddered as he pulled on a baggy hoodie. Despite it being the middle of the year, he didn't want to risk getting cold. He was now completely unused to normal weather and temperatures. Once he was dressed, he had to scurry out into the narrow tunnels with ahead of Draco. The thought of turning his back on the gun made his stomach knot and twist. He felt like his heart was throbbing on his throat. It was stifling. He felt suffocated.

Cement dust trickled down from the ceiling of the tunnels as they shifted their way out. Harry could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn't do this –he didn't want to go up 'there' anymore –the thought of it alone made him sick. He wanted to stay downstairs, with Draco. Downstairs he was safe. Downstairs he was able to breathe and relax and study and wait for Draco to see him. What on earth was wrong with that? The closer he got to the entrance and he felt the tunnel slope upwards under his feet, he stopped and turned back around. "I can't go back up there," he whimpered, "P-Please don't make me!"

Draco stopped and stared at Harry through the vague shaft of light filtering down from the cellar above. As much as he wanted their illusion to continue it couldn't; it had been shattered at gun-point and so they needed to take the next step. What that held for them remained to be seen, but it seemed that whatever lie above for them, it wasn't going to be a 'welcome back' party, nor was it going to be a heroic story in tomorrow mornings paper about the brave blonde aristocratic blonde who had worked at Costa's having found the teenager missing for six months.

Draco sighed a little, his shoulders slumping, "There's nothing I can do, sweetheart. You'll be fine."

"What about you? What's _he_ going to do to you?" Harry asked, caught somewhere between hysteria and a sneer as his eyes flickered to the tall blonde behind Draco.

"It'll be fine," was all Draco could allow himself to say. Harry was already terrified; he didn't want to add to the panic consuming him. His own heart felt like lead in his chest and he couldn't deny that having the barrel of a gun pressing into the small of his back was enough to make him sick to his stomach. His stomach was rigid with fear as he reached out and lightly touched Harry's wrist –God, his skin felt so warm! Why had he ever denied himself the pleasure of touch for so long? –and gave a tight smile, "It'll be fine."

"Hurry up and get a move on!" Mr. Malfoy snapped aggressively, ramming the gun against Draco's ribs. He stumbled forward, almost knocking into Harry and grunting as his shoulder collided with the tunnel wall.

Harry pressed his lips together before turning his back on both blonde's and crawling up through the tight entrance and into the wine cellar. His legs and arms felt weak and quaked under his weight as he shifted upwards. He'd jumped and knocked his head against the rack as Draco's hands had touched him –such a strange feeling –and had helped push him up the rest of the way.

He scurried over to the corner and watched as Mr. Malfoy came up first and quickly got to his feet, aiming the gun at the entrance before grasping Harry's forearm in a vice-like grip. Harry winced but didn't try to struggle. He knew it would be useless. Tears ran silently down his cheek. He hoped that Mr. Malfoy didn't shoot Draco as soon as he'd climbed out of the hole.

Thankfully, that nightmare didn't come true.

As soon as the wine rack was shifted back into place, Mr. Malfoy motioned for Draco to lead the way upstairs. He didn't plan on letting Harry go, it seemed. Harry clenched his jaw to keep from whimpering as Mr. Malfoy's nails dug deep into his flesh.

They made their way up from the cellar and into the main foyer of the manor. Harry winced and scrunched his eyes up tightly. He wasn't used to such bright, artificial lighting. The main hall was so vast and open, the ceiling so high and the air so clean. Everything about it felt wrong and all he wanted to do was run into the kitchen, wherever that was, and hide in one of the cupboards. Or maybe that narrow one under the grand staircase. He didn't care, he just needed to be somewhere tight and not as 'fresh'.

Harry let out a weak sob as Mr. Malfoy dragged him across to the front parlour and all but tossed him into one of the armchairs by the fireplace. Draco brushed past his father and knelt down beside Harry's chair, his hands pressed near Harry's knees and his icy gaze cutting through the air, rivalling his father's. Harry was beginning to hyperventilate; the clean air, space and soft furniture were sending him into a panic attack. Draco tried crooning softly in his ears but it didn't seem like anything was registering in the brunette's brain.

The sound of the receiver clicking into place made Draco look up from where his father had finished talking to the local police. Rounding on his son, gun in hand and gaze firm and cold, he asked, "Do you have anything to say for yourself before I turn you in?"

Draco wanted to argue, wanted to stand-up for everything he hated his father for doing to him when he was a child, but nothing came out. His heart sank low in his chest, like butter on hot toast. A tremor ran through him as the realisation dawned on him; this was it, there was nothing left he could do except hope that his mother would bail him out or at the very least he would be acquitted. He knew that it wouldn't happen though, either way he was going to be classed as a paedophile. Especially since now he _had_ defiled Harry. Regardless of consent, it would be speculated and tainted by people's idiotic judgements. It was no good, all too soon he'd be in prison and Harry would forget about him … Eventually.

"You're not even going to help your son?" Harry finally rasped.

Mr. Malfoy sneered, "Why should I? He's a filthy disappointment."

"But … He's your son."

Draco blinked in astonishment. Harry was loyal to him and it wasn't because of how Draco had rebuilt him, it was purely because Harry actually had some respect and, dare he say it, love for him. All the things that lacked in the relationship he had with his father. His throat ran dry as he glanced up at his father, "Do you really need the gun now? We're not going anywhere. Where _could_ we go? The police are already on their way."

Mr. Malfoy narrowed his eyes before easing his finger off the trigger and setting the gun down in his lap. He could still shoot them if he chose to, but at least they weren't staring down the barrel anymore.

Before he could think rationally, Draco lunged forward and knocked the gun out from his father's grasp. It clattered loudly as it spun half way across the room. Mr. Malfoy grabbed his cane and smacked the silver handle across Draco's cheek, cutting his skin right to the bone before he lurched off the divan to get at the gun. Draco grabbed at his father's long blonde hair, ripping shreds out before he cracked his jaw against his knee. Blood poured down the front of his pristine white shirt before Mr. Malfoy elbowed him in the groin, turned onto his back and whipped his cane across Draco's neck. "ARGH!" he cried out as the blood swelled to the surface, thick and heavy already colouring for a bruise.

"I WILL NEVER LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS!" Mr. Malfoy hollered as he stood up to his feet, cane in hand and started to rain blow after blow down on his son. He let out all his fury; he beat Draco's legs –specifically aiming for his kneecaps –as well as his ribs and abdomen. He intended to inflict as much pain as humanly possible before the police came.

The roar of the gun being fire cut through the air.

Mr. Malfoy froze mid-strike, before turning his attention to the young teen, holding the gun in his weak, quivering arms. Panting heavily, he raked his hair out of his eyes, spat out a mouthful of blood before tossing his cane to one side. Draco cracked an eye open, choking on his own blood and cringing as every breath hurt. Straightening up more, he reached out toward the teen, "Give me the gun, boy. You don't know how to use it."

"Don't I?" Harry's voice rattled through his lips. He felt silly; he knew he couldn't do it. He could smell the fear rolling off him in waves.

"Harry …" Draco rasped out, forcing himself up into a crouching stance, "Don't do this … Don't become me …"

Harry's bright green eyes were wide with fear and shame as he adjusted his stance and fired another round awkwardly into the corner of the room. Something shattered. Both Malfoy's jumped. "I could do it, you know?" he said darkly, "I could kill you both. I could do it and no one would ever know. I could leave before the police even got here. I could be home with my family by the weekend and that will be the end of it all."

"Don't be a fool, boy."

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! STOP TALKING AND JUST LET ME THINK!" he cried out, his eyes squeezed shut as he flared the gun in his hands.

Draco flinched as he watched Harry lose control. He was sweating bleeding and desperate to get to Harry, to stop him going something he'd regret. But he could barely move. He felt like he was frozen to the spot.

Draco flinched as he watched Harry lose control. He was sweating bleeding and desperate to get to Harry, to stop him going something he'd regret. But he could barely move. He felt like he was frozen to the spot.

Calming down, Harry turned to both men, "You know what I could do?" he deftly opened the chamber and emptied all buy one bullet before clicking it back into place and aiming at Mr. Malfoy. "I do play roulette. See which one of you dies in the end you …"

'CLICK'

"… Or you," he aimed the gun at Draco.

'CLICK'

"Harry … Please don't do this!"

"SHUT UP! ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME! CARED FOR ME! BUT YOU DIDN'T! IT WAS ALL ABOUT YOU!"

"The police will be here soon, Potter. You know you don't want to do this."

Harry aimed the gun.

'CLICK'

He aimed again.

'CLICK'

"Sooner or later one of you is going to have to die, because it's not going to be me," he said coldly before prying open the chamber, rotating it in a long spin, before jamming it back in. A sadistic smile crawled onto his mouth. "Besides, this way is more fun."

Ten minutes later, police would report about the sound of gunshots roaring through the still night.

 **~Epilogue~**

Huddled against the lashing rain that fell from the sky in tepid curtains, Harry finally made his way back up to the main road. The road he was clumsily stumbling along was dark and slippery under his worn out trainers.

His nose was cold and his hands were still shaking from what he'd done.

Despite his talk, he hadn't talked to become a killer. He hadn't wanted to be the cause for blood leaking out over polished marble tiles. He especially didn't want the smell to cling under his nose as though he'd had his face rubbed in it.

It must have been two in the morning by the time a lone car finally crawled around the long bend in the road, illuminating trees and the needle fine rain still soaking him through. His clothes were far too thin to be of any substantial cover.

The fresh air and open grounds were unnerving him; he needed the refuges of a compact car regardless of who was driving it. Jutting out his thumb the car finally slowed and then turned off onto a shoulder a little way ahead, red lights signalling it'd stopped. Harry hurried up to it and climbed into the passenger seat. The soft leather melted under his weight.

Soft cologne filled the air that made him feel dizzy and comfortable all at the same time.

The car doors were locked, not that he minded despite how he jumped a little in his seat, and they pulled back out onto the empty road.

He didn't turn to look at the driver. He didn't need it, not right now. He was content to just rest his elbow and head against the windowpane and watch the various shadows and rain flash by in a mirage of darkness. Soon his eyes grew heavy and, ignoring the fact that his clothes were drying and making his raw, bruised skin itch feverishly, he soon felt his mind grow numb to the endless night.

In every rain drop, he felt as though he were looking into Draco's eyes and his chest would grow heavy and it became harder to breathe at all that time waste, all that love turning to dust at his feet in the eyes of Malfoy senior. He clenched his fists tightly in his lap.

That man was a liar.

Shaking his head, he grimaced at himself. He didn't need to think of that man, not anymore. For once he didn't care about what came next. He was more than happy to drive off into oblivion as long as he could put the sight of all that blood behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye he was a long-fingered pale hand turn the radio on, letting soft radio music fill the near-silence within the car.

Harry relaxed a little more and let his eyes close completely.

He was free now –that was enough.

 **THE END.**

* * *

 **A/N: This story is dedicated to FanofBellaandEdward. I truly hope I scared you enough!**

 **Please let me know what you think of this story. Also, if anyone leaves any reviews about the content, you will be reported. I have given enough warnings in regard to this story.**

 **Happy Halloween! x**


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